


R-O-C-K Me Again

by questceque_cest



Category: Glee, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fantasy, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 15:22:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/questceque_cest/pseuds/questceque_cest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine accidentally masturbates to One Direction, but quickly learns that even he cannot ignore the alluring nature of those European hotties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	R-O-C-K Me Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dulosis (el_em_en_oh_pee)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/el_em_en_oh_pee/gifts).



> For my dear lovely S on her birthday <3 I love you so much. This is the extent of my One Direction knowledge, so enjoy. 
> 
> Title obviously taken from "Rock Me" aka "Fuck Me" by none other than One Direction.

It started off as an accident. 

Blaine laid in his bed beneath his plaid comforter, headphones secured over his ears and tissue box nestled against his side. He scrolled through his iPod, searching for the perfect song for him to, you know, relieve his daily tension. Typically, he got off the best to the crooning of Paul Anka because who wouldn’t? Or, sometimes, if he was feeling a bit exotic, he’d blast one of his Bryan Ferry classics and go to town. One time, though, he listened to recorded mp3s from glee club rehearsal and had an extremely powerful orgasm as the crescendo of his own vibrato washed through his body. 

Tonight, Blaine was feeling a bit Broadway, so he searched his playlists until he found those sweet, sweet sounds of Robert Goulet, pressed shuffle, and carefully slid his pajamas bottoms down his legs until they pooled at his ankles. Blaine wrapped a tentative grip around his already hardening cock, stroking it up and down once, twice. He bit his lip and scrunched his eyes closed as he began to feel heat prickle in his lower stomach with every stroke of his dick. He concentrated really, really hard on the song (which was from Camelot. The irony was not lost on Blaine), and began to work himself a bit faster. His mind began to drift the quicker he jerked himself, landing on thoughts of gym class earlier in the day when the boys had to play dodgeball and Sam had bent down _right_ in front of him in those tight little McKinley shorts to pick up the ball and Blaine had to turn away so he didn’t pitch a tent right then and there. 

Soon, he became wrapped in his own perverse thoughts of him and Sam in the locker rooms after practice, when a jarring music change rustled him from his fantasy. The illustrious Camelot fanfare ended, being replaced by the poppy beats of some One Direction song. Blaine tittered, mentally chided himself for keeping “What Makes You Beautiful” on his iPod. I mean, he wasn’t even one of the boys to perform it at last year’s prom, so it’s not like he needed it for reference, per se. But, Blaine was already _so, so close_ , and he really didn’t want to let go of his dick to change the song, so he kept going, jerking himself off more fervently to the song. 

Unbeknownst to him, Blaine began to mouth along to lyrics until he hit his climax at the second bridge of the song, with Harry’s voice ringing in his ears. With a silent cry, Blaine quickly reefed a handful of tissues from the box, diving his arm under the comforter to catch most of the jizz that squirted from his slit in ropes and spilled over his fingers. 

With a shaky breath, Blaine laughed as the One Direction song still played as he wiped the come from his hands. Balling up the tissues and pitching them into his garbage can, he pulled up his pants and sighed deeply, resting back against his pillows as the song continued. 

They weren’t that bad for a boyband, if truth be told. Blaine thought they lacked proper choreography, but in all honesty they sounded put together. And besides, they _were_ pretty cute, aesthetically. 

He switched off his iPod, placing it neatly on his nightstand before settling under the covers and closing his eyes for bed. Blaine was disconcerted, though, that he had just came to a One Direction song. He didn’t really have a penchant for boy bands from the 21st century. 

But, he couldn’t even deny how great that orgasm had felt. He even sang their lyrics as he climaxed, for god sake. Letting out a stream of breath through his lips, he willed his heart rate to steady and sleep to take him away to dreamland. 

And, boy, did it ever. Blaine woke up the next morning with a rough case of morning wood and the top of his pajamas pants wet. He actually had a wet dream, like preteen Blaine circa 2007. It was embarrassing, to say the least. Even more so that the only pieces of his dream he could remember were fragments of his journey to stagedoor a One Direction concert. Mortifying. 

Blaine rousted himself from his bed, still upset about his ruined pajama bottoms, and sat down at his laptop, ignoring the throbbing of his erection between his legs. It was a Saturday morning, meaning Blaine checked his email and Facebook before joining his parents at the breakfast table. 

Once he had cleared out his Inbox and liked a couple statuses, he swiveled his desk chair to stand up when, low and behold, he looked down and cursed his still ever present boner. 

Blaine bit his lip, debating whether he should take care of his situation or not. At that inopportune moment, a hazy piece of his dream flashed before his eyes and, fuck, a jolt of pleasure radiated to his groin. 

Despite his better judgement, Blaine googled “One Direction” in image search, scrolling through pages of images of the boys, all smiling and looking cheekily at the camera. He lazily stroked his erection through his pajamas bottoms as he stared at the white teeth and soft hair that looked back at him through the screen. 

Blaine found his eyes more often than not landed upon Louis, who was always dressed in suspenders and coloured jeans in every photograph. Literally, that was everything Blaine needed in a boy. Curiosity getting the better of him, he one-handedly changed his search to “One Direction shirtless” and, wow, if he didn’t get thousands of images of the boys completely shirtless, flexing their muscles and running their fingers down their wet torsos. 

“Oh, god,” Blaine moaned, his fingers gripping tighter around his erection as he sped up, taking in the beautiful, slick flesh of the One Directions boys that was decorated with the crisp, black ink lines from their tattoos. 

Much to his chagrin, the majority of the photos seemed to be of Harry and Liam and, oh god, _why_ did he know their names? Not that he was complaining that it was those two, because naked hot boys are still naked hot boys and it’s not as if they were unpleasant to look at. It’s just that they weren’t shirtless Louis. 

But, Blaine truly didn’t care as he felt the building of heat and pressure in his lower stomach, coaxing him to stroke faster and faster until his sweet release. He pulled his dick free from its flannel constraints, hissing as the cold air kissed his skin. 

Before he knew it, Blaine shot come off in thick ropes, very narrowly avoiding his laptop keys as his eyes laid trained on the boys in front of him. He bit down hard on his lip, panting as he essentially eye-fucked the hell out of this one candid of Louis with dripping swim trunks clinging to his lithe frame. 

“Jesus,” Blaine moaned, gawking at the spurts of cooling come that trickled over his fingers and pooled on his desktop. This was probably going to be a problem in the future, provided, of course, that Blaine continued his trend of rubbing one out in such close proximity to his precious laptop. 

Begrudgingly, he wiped his fingers against the inside of his pants and fisted handfuls of tissues from the box to wipe his desk surface clean of any and all drops of semen. After pitching them neatly in his garbage can, he slammed his laptop lid shut. 

_Stop it, Anderson_ , Blaine scolded, running his fingers through his messy bed head. It was perfectly natural for Blaine to want to picture attractive boys around his age when masturbating. I mean, it’s probably better that he picture boys he _didn’t_ have to see every day in gym class...and glee club...and in the superhero club, fuck. But, One Direction was so...teeny bopper, something that twelve year old girls would be into. Not someone as dapper and debonair as Blaine Anderson. 

He knew, however, that there was no point in hiding the truth. Blaine had masturbated twice to those UK cuties, and mental anguish aside, those orgasms had been _ridiculous_. Blaine decided to skip morning breakfast with his parents, instead opting to change into his weekend clothes and head out to the pharmacy. 

Bounding down the stairs, he grabbed his mother’s car keys from the key hook before placing a quick peck upon her cheek, promising he would be back in time for lunch. When questioned about his sudden desire to leave to house at 10AM on a Saturday, Blaine placated her with a small smile and informed her he just needed to stop off at the library. If she had looked up from the morning paper, she would’ve seen guilt flash through her son’s eyes before he turned on his heels and raced out the front door. 

He drove to the local CVS with a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel, taking painstaking efforts to concentrate on the road and not on the task he was about to accomplish. As a distraction, Blaine fiddled with the radio at the stop light and felt his heart stop in his chest when he landed on the local Top 40 Station. 

“ _Alright, and that was ‘I Knew You Were Trouble’ by none other than Taylor Swift. Hey, speaking of Taylor Swift, how are all you tweens dealing with the Taylor and Harry Styles split? There are some crazy rumours flying around the internet about their breakup, saying it was caused by Harry’s inability to kiss, or Taylor’s inability to put out. What do you think, listeners? Call in with your theories and enter the chance to win $500. Now, we played one side of the ex-couple, so here’s the other! This is ‘Kiss You’ by One Direction_ ” 

Blaine was only pulled out of his stupor when he heard an orchestra of car horns from behind, realizing that he was blocking the intersection as he was too engrossed in the radio DJ’s drivel. And, much to Blaine’s dismay, he had a Pavlovian-like reaction to the saccharine sounds of One Direction, for he could feel himself chub up in his pants as he drove. Throwing all caution to the wind, Blaine turned up the volume and started belting out the lyrics, taking short breaks to calm himself before his erection became full blown and wouldn’t that be hard to explain if he were pulled over by the cops? 

Pulling up to the CVS parking lot, Blaine found a space and pushed the car in park. He exited swiftly, controlling his steps to prevent himself from actually racing into the store. Once inside, Blaine headed directly for the magazine rack, bending down to the lowest levels designated for pre-teen girls. 

_Dear lord_ , he thought as his eyes raked over the fluorescently coloured covers, bright pictures of Louis, Zayn, Liam, Niall, and Harry smiling at him from J-14 and Tiger Beat. Blaine ran his fingers along the covers, selecting magazines that promised larger posters available inside. Blaine knew he would make excellent use of those. 

He picked up the copies he wanted, flitting through the pages until he stopped at a full body shot of Louis stupidly grinning at the camera, his fingers raking through his disgustingly perfect hair. 

A groan escaped Blaine’s lips, his breath coming out hoarsely, as he stared at the most beautiful photo he had ever witnessed. 

“Dude, hey! How’s it hanging?” 

Blaine gasped and turned sharply, his tightening stomach joining his rattling heart, when he noticed Sam standing in front of him, broadly smiling with his arm up in a half wave. 

“Sam,” Blaine said, unsteady. “What are you doing here?” 

Sam drew his other hand from behind his back, shaking a package of Chapstick in front of his face. “Ran out last night and since it’s like the winter and stuff, my lips can get pretty bad in the cold. What’s with the magazines, bro? I thought you’d be more of a GQ type guy.” 

Blaine followed Sam’s gaze and, oh goodness, no. Blaine rolled up the glossy covers at such a quick pace that he gave himself about a dozen paper cuts in the process. With a deep blush creeping across his cheeks, he answered, “Oh, these? My cousin is visiting. She’s eight. I figured I would buy her something as a welcome present.” 

Sam punched Blaine’s shoulder lightly. “Right on, man. You’re a pretty rocking cousin. But, she’s got awful taste though. I mean, One Direction?” Sam snatched one of the magazines from Blaine’s hands and pointed proudly at one picture on the cover. “They will never be like my man J Biebs. They can try, but there’s only one smoking hot dude pop star right now.” 

And with that, Sam tossed his package of Chapstick onto the counter and fished a couple bucks from his pocket. “Wanna hang out in like an hour? Britt is busy today and I could use someone to just chill with.” 

With a silent nod, Blaine smiled weakly. “Y-yeah, sure. Call me.” 

“Sounds sweet. See you later, man.” Sam waved before leaving the store. Blaine sighed deeply, before placing the magazines on the counter in front of the cashier, averting his eyes as he pulled his debit card from his wallet. 

On the car ride home, Blaine didn’t turn on the radio once. He didn’t know how he felt, to be honest. On one hand, he just bought himself enough material for his spank bank to last a lifetime. But, then there was Sam who basically called Blaine an idiot for liking One Direction. He hit his head against the steering wheel at a stoplight, cursing himself for falling for boy band boys. He should’ve just crushed on Justin, because then at least Sam would respect him. But, then again, Justin Bieber was definitely not Louis Tomlinson. 

When he got home from the “library”, Blaine headed to his room, magazines stuffed down the front of his shirt. He was hiding teenage magazines like theey were pornography, for god sake. Embracing that he was being ridiculous, he hid the copies of Tiger Beat and J-14 under his mattress, and sat on top of his bed. 

Sam would be calling him in an hour, and truly, he was the only person Blaine cared for. He began to tidy up his room, making sure all his tissues coated in jizz were buried deep in the bottom of the trash can and that his browser history was cleared. Blaine made his bed, straightened the books on his bookshelf, and applied his own smear of lip chap because you never know, right? Sighing contently, Blaine picked up his iPod from his nightstand and turned it on. He noticed that, of course, the song displayed on the screen was “What Makes You Beautiful” . After a moment’s hesitation, Blaine said, “fuck it” out loud, put on his headphones, pulled Tiger Beat from its mattressy constraints, and flipped to that ethereal picture of Louis. 

One more time couldn’t hurt.


End file.
